Reality
by tromana
Summary: The real world was hard work; if you wanted a reward, you had to earn it. Emma/Sheriff Graham. ONESHOT.


**Title: **Reality  
><strong>Author: <strong>tromana  
><strong>Rating: <strong>T  
><strong>Characters: <strong>Emma Swan/Sheriff Graham  
><strong>Summary: <strong>The real world was hard work; if you wanted a reward, you had to earn it.  
><strong>Disclaimer: <strong>Not mine  
><strong>Spoilers: <strong>Up to 1x04  
><strong>Notes: <strong>Written for realmer06 in the 2011 Stocking Swap hosted on LiveJournal.

**Reality**

Emma Swan never read fairytales as a child. It just wasn't something that occurred to her. She had no parents, nobody who cared enough to think that a small girl would actually find them interesting, educational, fun even. It was hardly surprising, really, given that she was mostly left to her own devices.

Therefore, Henry's interest, no, obsession with them intrigued her.

When he asked her if she'd worked out which fairytale character somebody was, she'd politely had to answer no. Not just because she had thought him completely and utterly crazy for believing that everybody in Storybrooke had a fictional alter ego, but also because she simply didn't know. As far as she was concerned, all the princesses, the princes, the villains, they were all the same.

They all got their happily ever afters. That simply didn't happen in the real world. The real world was hard work; if you wanted a reward, you had to earn it. You couldn't simply be born into a dream and end up getting the best because it was your birthright. No, even if you were lucky enough to earn some sort of happiness, then even that could be whisked away from under your feet.

_That _was a lesson she'd learned all too easily.

For years, she had toiled away, trying desperately to find out who her parents were. To get the answers to those nagging questions. Who are my parents? Why did they give me away? Why the hell did they just dump me on the side of a road instead of bothering with making sure I was somewhere safe?

She was good at finding people, almost _too _good at it sometimes. However, they had eluded her at every single turn. They were the only people to do so and she couldn't understand how or why. How come her innate instinct, her strange ability was somehow switched off, as such, when it came to them?

In a way, after that silly birthday wish, it was a relief when Henry knocked on the door. It seemed like he had inherited her skills, too. Because as good as Emma was at finding people, her disappearing skills were also second to none. If she wanted to spirit herself away, she could. She hated the idea of being pinned down to one spot, where everybody knew her name. So, she kept moving on, whenever she got bored (or had wreaked too much havoc) in one place or another.

And despite the ridiculousness of it all, she let herself indulge in Henry's flights of fancy. Listened to his patient (for a ten year old, at least) explanations of Storybrooke's supposed plight.

Slowly, but surely, she began to, not accept it as such, but believe that it was a potential way to look at the world.

No, she didn't believe for an instant that Regina Mills was the Evil Queen from Snow White. She was just a driven woman who went out to get what she wanted, _like_ said Queen. Mr. Hopper may have had characteristics like Jiminy Cricket, but that didn't mean he was literally a bug in another existence.

And Sheriff Graham…

Well…

She had no idea who he would be if he was a fairytale character and Henry hadn't come up with any suggestions, either. Mr. Gold intrigued him as he couldn't quite work it out, but he just didn't seem to care about Graham. Storybrooke's Sheriff just wasn't on his radar. Then again, why would he be? A ten year old shouldn't need any involvement with the police force. Their world should remain idyllic and innocent. Two things her childhood was not. And it seemed, two things Henry was determined to shrug off as soon as feasibly possible. (She tried to avoid telling herself _like mother, like son_, because she wasn't Henry's mother. Regina was. Emma gave her up for adoption and that included that specific birthright.)

Unlike Henry, she had plenty of interaction with Graham.

Whether or not he existed in Henry's fabricated world, it remained to be seen. It didn't matter either way. The Graham she knew had a fascination with handcuffs or at least, that was how it appeared to her. He may have worn a wry smile each and every time he brought them out in front of her, but that didn't disguise his glee at the matter. He may have said that it was at Regina's behest, but that never stopped him from actually enjoying it. Graham always attempted to ensure she spent as long as possible in the holding cell, just so that he could talk with her. Make her angry, make her laugh… just get any old emotion he saw fit out of her.

He needed only to ask if he wished to spend more time with her. Really.

Because she didn't care if he didn't fit into Henry's cookie cutter viewer of the world (yet). It wasn't a figment of _her_ imagination, she just encouraged it in him. Emma didn't care if he wasn't some dashing prince or duke or huntsman or whatever. Nobody was like that in real life, so why would they be elsewhere? Instead, she liked that cheeky smile of his. She was glad that he decided to give her a shot and gave her a job (and a reason to stay.)

And his hair. For some reason, she liked that a lot.

She liked to run her fingers through it, to feel its silky smoothness. So soft, so _real _to touch. If Henry, for some absurd reason was one hundred percent correct, would this exist in the fairytale world or whatever it was called? Would she - the supposed princess daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming - be allowed to be anywhere near him? Henry hadn't given her a plausible alter ego for him yet and she, naturally, was terrible at even considering them.

Regardless, given the option between all those happily ever afters and where she was right now, she knew exactly which one she'd choose.

Especially so when his lips were firmly pressed against her own, his tongue doing devilish things and - _oh _- those naughty, naughty teeth.

This was as close to a happily ever after as anyone could get and Emma knew just how fleeting that could be. Therefore, she was going to take all she could get, before it was too late.


End file.
